


higanbana

by fuurin (uzumaki_rakku)



Category: League of Legends
Genre: Alternate Character Interpretation, Alternate Universe, Backstory, Bromance, Gen, M/M, Pining, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, flower symbolism, hanahaki (to be added later)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-02
Updated: 2018-06-02
Packaged: 2019-05-17 10:15:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14830382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uzumaki_rakku/pseuds/fuurin
Summary: Their story began many years ago.When Shen was seven, his father brought home an orphan boy with fair hair and scarlet eyes. Kusho said nothing of the child's background, but the scars spoke for themselves and Shen could see the shadows that haunted the younger boy's blood-red gaze.He smiled, stepped forward, and held out his hand.





	1. osmanthus

 

When Shen was seven, his father brought home an orphan boy with fair hair and scarlet eyes. Kusho said nothing of the child’s background, but the scars spoke for themselves and Shen could see the shadows that haunted the younger boy’s blood-red gaze.

He smiled, stepped forward, and held out his hand.

.

_Hi, I’m Shen. What’s your name?_

_…Zed._

_Father says you’re to stay here from now on. Come on, I’ll show you around._

 

* * *

  
Zed knew that the other students were whispering about him again. He cared little for their petty jealousies, used as he was to being the target of resentment, suspicion, and sometimes fear from his peers.

But they did not matter. _They_ could wallow in mediocrity for all he cared; there was only one who could be his equal.

His sparring match with Shen that day had ended in a draw, as it always did, and his fingers twitched with a restless energy. For a moment during their fight it had felt like he had the upper hand, and he had momentarily sacrificed caution for speed to lunge in for the final strike... only for Shen to seemingly disappear right before his eyes.

He had barely spun around in time to block Shen’s retaliating blow, and then Kusho had called for them to stop.

Kusho had praised Shen for improving his reaction time, and chastised Zed for taking such a risk.

A blur of motion in the corner of his eye pulled Zed out of his thoughts. He raised a pale eyebrow as Shen appeared before him.

“Zed!” Shen’s light blue eyes were bright with amusement. “You ran off so soon. Still sulking over what Father said?”

“I do not _sulk,”_ Zed snapped, glowering at his adoptive brother. “There was simply no reason for me to stick around when Master Kusho clearly wished to speak to you in private.”

“Oh, that thing?” the older of the two young ninjas shrugged. “It was just to brief me about my upcoming mission.”

Zed paused. “The bodyguard mission?” He had not been able to find out any details about what was to be Shen’s first solo assignment, and though he was loathe to admit it, the lack of information worried him.

“Yes. I am to protect Lord Jizo during the Snow Festival next week.”

Zed looked askance at him. “Master Kusho expects an attack?”

Shen shrugged. “Father only said to stay hidden, and ensure Lord Jizo’s safety at all costs.”

“That’s…” Zed frowned. “Why am I not included? Surely two of us together would do a better job of defending some feeble old ars—” quickly changing his next word at a disapproving glance from Shen, “—aristocrat.”

Shen looked at Zed with that eyes had the colour and stillness of pond frozen over in winter. “It is not for us to question the orders we’re given,” he reminded gently. “My duty is to fulfil the mission given to me.”

Zed scowled. “It’s a test, isn’t it?” he said abruptly. “You have to do it because you’re going to be the Eye of Twilight.”

“…I believe so,” Shen said, after a pause. “It is likely.”

Then he smiled, and Zed instantly forgot he was supposed to be bitter.

“Come now, there’s no need to make that face. While I appreciate my dear brother’s concern for my safety, you really do worry too much.” He paused, then added slyly, “I’d be concerned about your hair turning white from all this fretting, if it wasn’t already so.”

“Oh, really?” Zed said, with a sardonic glint in his eye that would’ve sent most people their age running for the hills. “Don’t get too ahead of yourself, _brother,_ or one day your overly inflated head will get big enough to float you right out of Ionia.”

Shen simply leaned his chin on his hand and looked at Zed. “You’re smiling,” he pointed out.

“Well then, you’re _paying!”_ Zed whirled around and stalked off, throwing the retort over his shoulder.

Shen blinked, and called after him, “Wait, for what?”

“For my osmanthus cake!”

Shen coughed to hide a laugh and followed, shaking his head at his brother’s mercurial moods.

“I swear, that sweet tooth is your only exploitable weakness,” he commented lightly, falling into step next to Zed.

Zed glanced at him for the fraction of a second before looking away. “Hah, no,” he scoffed, but said no more.

.

Zed knew what his weakness was. It looked him in the face every day with good-natured placidity, smiled at his foul tempers, and called him brother.

.

Despite growing up in a temple full of other ninjas-in-training, Zed’s only true friend and companion was Shen. He knew full well that his general demeanour tended to make people wary of him, unwilling to draw close lest they be burned by his acerbity. There was a strange intensity to Zed, and something about the way he looked at people, that almost never failed to unnerve those around him.

His unusual appearance did him no favours, either. The scars upon his body had faded a little with the years that had passed, but people still flinched at the sight of his bare face. Eventually he began to wear a mask when he was outside, not to spare their sensibilities, but because their twitches and cringes annoyed him.

A poet might say his hair was like cold steel under the moonlight and his eyes as red as blood-drops from a wounded heart, but Zed did not live in a society of poets. The Kinkou Order had no appreciation for macabre imagery; their only preoccupation was with the preservation of balance. To the others who lived in the temple, Zed’s exotic looks was a reminder of how he had, after all those years, remained an outsider. He was no more than a stray whom Master Kusho had once taken pity on and, for reasons unknown, chosen to raise as his own.

Zed knew that people disapproved of his close association with Shen.

After all, Shen was different from him. They had played together as children, and trained together almost exclusively when it became clear that none of the other students could match either of them, yet circumstances of birth had placed them on separate paths. Although Zed had proven himself time and again to be Shen’s only equal, he had been barred from all the secret training and special missions that Shen had to undertake. It was as though the Kinkou intended no place for him in Shen’s future.

But it was no matter, if he could only prove himself stronger than Shen. If he could defeat his rival in a duel, then Kusho would be forced to acknowledge his abilities and give Zed his rightful place – both in the Kinkou Order, and in the life of the one he called brother.


	2. plum

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _When everything has faded they alone shine forth,_  
>  encroaching on the charms of smaller gardens.  
> Their scattered shadows fall lightly on clear water,  
> their subtle scent pervades the moonlit dusk.
> 
>  
> 
> (Translated excerpt from "Little Plum Blossom of Hill Garden" by Lin Bu)

 

The day of the Snow Festival came, and Zed was concealed in the trees a moderate distance from where Lord Jizo was expected to arrive, several hours before the ceremony was slated to begin.

His location was far from ideal, but there had been no other choice – he had been ordered not to interfere with the mission, and to risk discovery by moving closer would be to put Shen in unnecessary danger. Zed suppressed a sigh and settled himself for a long wait, allowing his thoughts to wander a little even as he kept a careful watch on his surroundings.

He had always found himself more suited for carrying out assassinations than defending others from them, especially when most of the people he was supposed to protect ended up more afraid of him than of their would-be assassins.

At least Shen never had such problems, for his calm, respectful manner made him the very picture of dependability. It was easy for people to trust Shen, for despite being only in his teens he possessed an aura of quiet dignity that made them instinctively desire to follow where he lead. There was little that could disturb the tranquillity within his eyes, which were a shade of such pale blue that they seemed almost ethereal.

He had inherited those eyes from his father. Lord Kusho’s own icy blue gaze had, years ago, cast itself upon Zed’s childish face and seen something in those unchildlike red eyes that had intrigued him.

As they grew older and their paths gradually grew apart, Zed began to realise that Shen had changed. He no longer looked at Zed with simple brotherly affection, but something colder and more distant. It felt as though Shen was able to look into Zed’s heart and judge all that was found there, or look right through him towards something that was invisible to mortal eyes.

The first time Zed had noticed the change was after Shen began his specialized training in preparation for the inheritance of his father’s title. The eyes which fell on him that day had been the eyes of a stranger, serene and emotionless as though they had been gazing not at the familiar form of a friend and brother, but at just another face in the crowd.

Seized by a sudden panic, Zed had cried out before he could stop himself, and the spell had been broken. The person looking at him in surprise had become Shen once again, but Zed had never forgotten how he had felt in that moment. Part of him knew, even then, that it was only the beginning of greater changes.

It was whispered amongst the others in the temple that when Shen became the next Eye of Twilight, his soul would no longer be entirely human.

Zed often found himself staring at the ceiling at night, listening to the steady breathing of his brother on the other side of the room, and wondering why Shen never seemed even a little apprehensive of the fate that had been laid out for him since the day he was born.

.

A gust of wind blew past, and Zed shivered slightly. He had chosen to dress lightly for his self-imposed mission, as stealth was of the utmost importance, but as time wore on he slowly began to regret that decision. White clothing and minimal armour helped him to blend into the snowy background, but did little to protect him from the cold that was slowly seeping into his veins.

Zed wished he could move about more, or rub his arms to warm them, but any sound he made could draw unwanted attention. Instead he drew in a freezing breath and let himself fall into light meditation, breathing deeply but without noise.

_Think of fire. A candle, a stove, a fireplace. Feel its warmth._

He closed his eyes for better concentration, but only detected the tiniest of changes in his body temperature. The meditation technique required greater focus than he could afford to give, as Lord Jizo was expected to arrive any moment and Shen must have already hidden himself in the area.

Giving the attempt up as a pointless endeavour, Zed opened his eyes.

And nearly fell right out of the tree.

Shen was perched on the branch before him, dressed only a little more warmly than Zed was, and regarding him with a mixture of amusement and exasperation. Zed glared as he brought his furiously beating heart back to a normal pace, mortified to be caught entirely unawares by the very person was supposed to be protecting.

Shen made no sound, but the laughter was clearly visible in his eyes. He pulled down the cloth mask concealing the lower half of his face and mouthed the words, _“Having regrets yet?”_

Zed had no trouble understanding him, as they had both been taught to read lips. He pulled down his own mask and, in lieu of replying in the same fashion, presented his brother with his fiercest scowl.

Shen covered his mouth with a hand, shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter. _“Alright,”_ he mouthed upon removing his hand. _“If you say so.”_ Then, after a thoughtful pause, he reached over and took both of Zed’s hands with his own.

Zed nearly had a heart attack, but Shen looked as though this was the most ordinary thing in the world as he held the other ninja’s cold hands between his larger, warmer ones. Zed felt the blood rush to his face and quickly turned his head, under the pretence of looking for suspicious activity in the woods.

Something about it all – the mission, the place, the time – felt strange.

He glanced at Shen, whose mouth quirked in a wry smile. _“I’m uneasy too,”_ he admitted, releasing Zed’s hands. Zed was about to ask him what was really going on when he heard the faint sound of a carriage in the distance. Shen was on the move immediately. Mouthing a quick _“See you later,”_ to Zed, he pulled the mask back over his face and swiftly vanished without a sound.

Zed raised a hand towards where Shen had been a moment before, almost wishing he could call him back, then checked himself and refocused his attention on scanning the area for potential threats. He could hardly care less for the life of some old fart, but he would never allow Shen to be harmed when _he_ was near.

Around him the winter wind continued to blow, but the warmth of Shen’s touch remained.

.

Zed had no idea that what was to happen that day would haunt his nightmares for years to come.

Everything had been normal up to that point – Lord Jizo’s arrival, the ceremony, the festivities, all had gone as it should. It was only when Lord Jizo stood to give his closing speech when Zed became aware that something was very wrong.

For the man at the podium was not Lord Jizo. Zed knew what the accent from Jizo’s province sounded like, and while the accent of the man at the podium was a good imitation, the inconsistencies in his speech revealed that it was ultimately false.

Just as he arrived at that realisation, two attacks were fired in quick succession from somewhere within the woods. One was aimed at the imposter, and the other at an unassuming old man in the crowd.

Zed cried out in warning, but Shen had already moved. He deflected the throwing knives of the first attack with ease, then dashed in front of the real Lord Jizo and – when it seemed like the flurry of arrows were about to embed themselves in his body – formed a barrier of pure energy. The projectiles bounced harmlessly off the shield and fell to the floor, and Zed could breathe again.

Shen was breathing hard, clearly exhausted by the effort that had taken, but he had succeeded in defending against both attacks. Zed leapt nimbly down from branch to branch, eager to rush to Shen and check him for injuries.

He noticed the trap bare milliseconds before his feet hit the ground.

Strange symbols appeared all around him in an instant, beginning from the snow-covered ground beneath his feet and quickly spreading onto all the trees in the area. The symbols were unfamiliar to him, but he could guess their purpose: to keep him there so he could not escape the oncoming attack.

Surrounded on all sides by those strange, purple-black things, Zed knew his only possible path of escape was up, and he leapt immediately – or tried to leap, as an unknown force had grasped him by the ankles and held him down so he could not escape. He looked down and saw they were dark, wispy tendrils of an unknown substance, which was the same purple and black shades as the symbols that had materialized around him. Something about their appearance gave off the impression of being almost intangible, yet the grip they had around his feet was entirely unrelenting.

Zed could not see his attackers, but knew full well that they were not far behind him, and closing in quickly for the final strike. Even in the few seconds he had left he struggled against his restraints with all the fury of a caged animal, slashing wildly at the things which had immobilized him.

But his blades were useless against those tendrils.

He wanted to call out, to scream his rage so that all would know he was defiant to the last, but something had silenced his voice. Was he really going to die like that, unseen and unheard by anyone? Was he really going to die before he had fulfilled even one of his dreams?

Zed heard the assassins’ blades cutting through the air, like whispers carried away by the cold winter wind.

He reached a hand towards the place he had last seen the only person he truly cared about.

_Don’t leave me behind._

.

He heard the sickening sound of blades sinking into flesh, and saw fresh blood spill across the pristine snow, yet there was no pain. Instead he heard a voice – the voice of the person foremost on his mind – let out a cry of mingled pain and defiance, and then his bindings shattered.

Freed from his restraints, Zed whirled around to see what had happened—

And the sight which met his eyes was one he could never forget.

It was Shen who stood before him, and it was Shen’s blood that painted the ground. He had put himself between Zed and the assassins, and shielded his brother with his own body.

There had been no time for anything else. It was already a miracle that Shen had made it there before the fatal blows could land, appearing next to Zed as though he had materialized out of thin air. No one had expected his intervention, and for the span of a few heartbeats everyone stood frozen in place.

Then Shen coughed, blood staining his mask a dark crimson, and staggered.

Zed caught him before he hit the ground.

He noticed, distantly, that his assailants had fled the moment Shen began to fall. He pulled down Shen’s mask so he could breathe more easily, only to see more blood spill from his brother’s lips.

Zed was covered in blood, but none of it was his own. It was on his hands as he tried to staunch its flow from the most grievous wounds, on his clothes as he held Shen close to him and screamed until his throat tore for someone to send for help, on his face as he buried his tears against his brother’s shoulder and pleaded for him to survive.

Shen coughed again, breaths coming short and shallow, and spoke the words so softly Zed half thought he had imagined them.

_“I won’t leave you.”_

.

On the snow-covered trees above, crimson plum blossoms began to bloom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops, my hand slipped.
> 
> \--
> 
> The plum blossom is one of the few flowers which bloom in winter, thus making it a symbol of perseverance, hope, and courage in the face of adversity. The ethereal elegance of the plum blossom also causes it to be associated with beauty, purity and the transience of life.

**Author's Note:**

> The osmanthus is a sweet-smelling flower often used in desserts and flower tea. It is also a symbol of true love and faithfulness.
> 
> An old Chinese legend tells the story of a man whose divine punishment was to chop down an osmanthus tree on the moon for all eternity. Since the tree would heal itself every time it was cut by his axe, he never made any progress.


End file.
